


together, we're invincible

by CatAvalon (CazinaIna)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidents, Apologies, Blood, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Family Drama, Fluff, Irrational Fears, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Realisations, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 00:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CazinaIna/pseuds/CatAvalon
Summary: “You’d make a good little househusband,” Yuri comments when Otabek takes a break, sprawled over Yuri’s lap with his face burrowed into his stomach.After a while, Otabek pulls back, looking up at Yuri with the same half-smile that made him fall years ago. “What does that make you, then?”Yuri blinks, lips parting for a moment before he realises he doesn’t know what to say. There’s only one word, dancing on the tip of his tongue, and he figures he might as well say it even if it does make his face flush. “Yours.”*Or, Yuri learns to face his fears.





	together, we're invincible

**Author's Note:**

> it's my bday, i'll post fic if i want to
> 
> (originally written for the domestic otayuri zine!)

Yuri likes his mornings a certain way. Every day, he'll wake before Otabek, throw one of their shirts from yesterday on and pad into the kitchen. He'll switch their kettle on and get out the same two mugs, both loud animal print, but only Yuri's bearing a chip on the rim. He'll make tea for himself and later, once he's stewed in the scented steam curling into the air, he'll make Otabek's coffee and set it gently on his nightstand with a soft kiss to his temple.

He likes the peace of early dawn, his solitude worship of the morning sun as he folds in on himself in front of the window. He likes the first kiss of warmth from the rays, likes bathing himself in it, soaking in the energy it offers unto him until his bones are mellow with it.

What he doesn't like is his boyfriend's shouts shattering his serenity. "Yura!"

It's easy to ignore at first, the bumbling buzz of a bee in his ears. Yuri's deep enough in his head to be able to remain focussed, legs thrown over his head in a pose he'd seen in some article Lilia showed him at the studio yesterday. His toes scrunch momentarily before releasing, the only evidence that he's affected.

"Yura!"

He manages to cut off a groan, but barely. Yuri can feel it, gnawing at his throat and pressing against his teeth, begging for release. It's probably something stupid, like fresh towels or toilet paper, and if Otabek can't use that brain of his to find them himself, that's his own problem. Three months is long enough to know where crap like that is.

Somehow he manages to pull himself out of his thoughts, and for a few blissful seconds, he's able to focus on how his body feels, stretched and contorted in the best of ways, skin bathed in sunlight.

"Yuri!"

His position falters, toes touching down onto the matt.

 _Great_.

He loves Otabek. Really, he does, but he loves his morning routine just as much. _It better be life or death,_ Yuri seethes as he lifts himself from the floor, joints clicking as he shakes out. He allows a single weary sigh as he trudges towards the source; Otabek's still shouting and Yuri's worried he'll wake the neighbours.

"I'm coming!" And he is, but first, he's going to take a long, soothing sip of tea and fill Potya's food bowl up with kibble- at least _she_ knows how to be patient.

"Yura, please," Otabek whines. He goddamn _whines,_ sounding more petulant than Yuri's ever heard him. He'd laugh if he wasn't pissed about being interrupted, and finally finds Otabek in the bathroom, door thrown open, shower on full.

"What?" he says through gritted teeth, crossing to where he can see Otabek's body glued to the shower curtain. Patches of tan bleed through the milky white of the plastic, and Yuri swears he can see a shudder roll through him. "What's the matter?"

" _Spider_ ." He spits the word as though it's coated in poison. _Spider_ . A goddamn _spider_. "Yura, you've gotta get it."

"Oh, my god," Yuri says, peeling back the curtain. He only spares a second to let his eyes roam over his naked, cowering boyfriend before he's scanning the tile for anything remotely large, long-legged and hairy. It's a fruitless search, and Yuri offers a deadpan stare. "Where?"

Wordlessly, Otabek points to the ceiling, up in the top corner above the curtain rail. It's a small, sooty smudge, barely there, honestly, sitting pretty with its little legs splayed. Yuri thinks it's rather cute, the kind of creature he'd give a name to back in his grandfather's apartment and talk to when he was lonely. He can tell, though, that Otabek has other opinions, if the insistent tugging at his shirt is anything to go by. Yuri represses the urge to roll his eyes and tries to offer a sympathetic smile he knows is nothing more than a scowl lacking any bite.

"You're such an idiot," Yuri mutters as he pushes up his shirt sleeves. Anyone remotely sane would have shut off the water, but Yuri doesn't have time for such trivialities and hops right up onto the side of the tub, bracing himself on Otabek's slick shoulder. His toes curl around the porcelain rim as he searches for something to use- he knows Beka wouldn't let him touch him for hours, maybe even a day, if he just scooped it up with his fingers.

He's met with wide, urgent eyes instead. "Don't kill it."

"I won't," Yuri promises, shaking his head. He drops a kiss into Otabek's wet hair and regrets it as the bitterness of soap lingers on his lips. "Idiot."

He ends up tipping out a collection of razor blades from a cup and stretching to trap the creature beneath it. Otabek holds his waist with an iron grip as Yuri ponders what to do next, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he re-examines his position. With nothing to slide beneath his makeshift cage, Yuri's left with two options: moving the cup to grab something, or shuffling it along with him. Neither sound like the best idea ever, but he supposes he should just keep the thing covered in case it makes any sudden moves with its freedom.

"What are you doing?" Otabek asks as he begins walking along the ledge, dragging the cup with him.

"Moving it towards the window?" Yuri replies, treading carefully. He can feel Otabek's apprehension in his touch- his fingers loosen on Yuri's waist, and he wavers without the added support.

"But-" he starts, but Yuri cuts him a glare carved from stone.

"What else do you want me to do, Beka?" he snaps, stilling. He doesn't mean to get frustrated, but he's trying his best, and he doesn't need Otabek's doubt weighing on his shoulders. He rolls his neck and continues moving. "You don't want me to kill it, but you don't want-"

It happens slowly.

Yuri's foot slips on the slick ceramic, his hand grasping the cup jolting against the ceiling. He watches in mild fascination as the spider is given its chance to escape, and takes it as fast as its fuzzy little legs allow it, skittering up the edge of the cup until it's running over Yuri's fingers.

And then, it drops, and Yuri drops with it, because Otabek's recoiling, shouting against the shower wall, the impact of him throwing himself against the tile enough to knock Yuri off balance. He grasps blindly for the shower curtain as he falls, but plastic and polyester versus an Olympic athlete only has one foreseeable outcome. At least he wins, Yuri thinks sickly, as his head hits the edge of the sink and his vision swims to black.

*

"Yura?"

He doesn't think he's been out long, purely because Otabek's hair still glistens with water and there's a towel wrapped around his waist. He crouches over Yuri with a look of horror carved into his face, eyebrows drawn high and skin pallid. When Yuri raises his hand to brush against the pain at his temple, it comes back red, sticky with blood.

"Oh, my God," he says, blinking at his fingers. They don't quite seem like his own, wavering in his vision.

"Oh, my God," Otabek copies, one hand reaching out to rest against his cheek. His thumb brushes away a tear that rolls languidly down Yuri's face. He doesn't know when it started, but he's crying, more out of shock than anything. Pain is a distant, hazy thing that drifts just out of reach, but Yuri knows it's only a matter of time before it comes to meet him. "We need to go to A&E."

A shudder runs through him until his muscles involuntarily clench up.

"No." It's spoken without any coherent thought; the cooling blood on his fingers and the shakiness of his vision tell him that he's wrong. Otabek's brow furrows, and Yuri winces at the harshness of his tone and the ache that seeps from his temple that's still making his eyes water. He says the word again, _no_ , a small pitiful sound as he tries to pull himself up so he's sitting, but it's no use. Dizziness overwhelms him and he has to lean on Otabek. At least he knows when he's fighting a losing battle.

"I'm sorry, Yura, but we've got to," Otabek murmurs once he's steady, gently brushing hair out of his face. In his struggle, Yuri's managed to smear red over Otabek’s bicep, and his stomach lurches. "You're going to need stitches."

"All because of a fucking spider," Yuri spits out. He wonders bitterly if the creature made it out unscathed as Otabek scoops him up in his arms and carries him to their bed. Once he's as comfortable as he's gonna get, Otabek folds up a hand towel and forces Yuri to hold it against the wound to stem the bleeding. The pressure of it makes him hiss, and before he can reign it in, he remarks, "Nice to know you chose an arachnid over me."

Otabek stills from across the room, bent over the dresser picking out clothes. The muscles in his back jump before they tense, and Yuri watches carefully as Otabek pulls a jumper over his head. His throat bobs nervously as he swallows; Yuri hears the sound of it, loud in the silence between them.

He doesn't need to be told twice that Otabek feels guilty. He sees it, undeniably so, in the cautious way he moves, almost apprehensive. Yuri stares pointedly over his shoulder when he kneels before him, using the hand that isn't putting pressure to his head to wipe hastily at his face.

"Yura," he says quietly, and there's a gentle touch to Yuri's knee. Otabek waits to see if Yuri pulls away- he doesn't- before squeezing. "You don't know how sorry I am."

Otabek's forehead comes to rest at the top of Yuri's thigh, and he can feel the tremor that runs beneath his skin. Biting his lip, Yuri pushes his fingers through the lengths of Otabek's hair, curling until he shifts against him. Yuri feels his mouth moving against his skin, feels the scrape of his stubble as he nuzzles against him, the apologies he continues to breathe deep into Yuri's bones.

_I am such an asshole._

"No," Yuri whispers, low and throaty. He's nervous, and he's hurting. He can already smell the sharp sting of antiseptic, but that doesn't mean he should take it out on the man he loves. "I shouldn't have said that."

Otabek doesn't move, not until Yuri audibly gasps as the adrenaline begins to fade and the pain begins to flourish. Together, they get Yuri into a pair of sweats and his team jacket, and after reassuring a startled Potya who's tail fluffs up at the sight of her injured owner, they make their careful journey to the car. The ride to the hospital is tense, and Yuri's not sure if the nausea is from the potential concussion or from his building anxiety. His fingers cling to Otabek's with a desperation he doesn't usually display outside the sanctuary of their apartment, but he can't help himself. He feels smaller than he has in years, weaker.

Otabek knows. Yuri's whispered his fears, in the eerie shadows of his grandfather's hospital room. It's irrational, like most fears are, but he sees the medical signs and he can't help but think of blood, the pain, the _death_ that the walls have witnessed, as if the ghost of their memories could seep into his skin and seal his fate. _Stupid,_ so ridiculously _stupid,_ but he understands now more than ever Otabek's reaction to that goddamn spider; the feeling is overwhelming, uncontrollable like the rolling tide. It washes over Yuri until he feels like he's drowning, and he knows the sputtering will only cease when he's far, _far_ away.

He does need stitches, and he does have a concussion. Even before the doctor prepares the needle, his fingers hold Otabek's own in a vice-like grip, knuckles white and bones aching. At least Otabek seems to take it in his stride, mouth at Yuri's ear, murmuring soft reassurances that help to distract from the odd tug/pull at his temple. It's made worse, though, by the determining way the doctor regards them.

"Spider in the shower," she says with eyes full of mirth, and a smile suggesting she's reading between the lines for an innuendo that isn't there. "That's certainly a first."

Yuri bristles, but he's considering himself pretty lucky at the moment. A few more centimetres and he might have had to have some of his hair shaved- now _that's_ a nightmare if he's ever heard one, and he knows it would have taken a lot longer to forgive Otabek if he'd left the examination room with an undercut.

Instead, he gets a prescription for strong painkillers and a lot of unwanted advice. Yuri would laugh at the redness of Otabek's cheeks if he too wasn't so embarrassed about _restricting your extracurricular activities to the bedroom for now._ Yeah, sure, Yuri will just _choose_ where the next spider takes up residence. He says as much to the doctor, who simply laughs as the door swings shut.

They stop by the pharmacist to pick up his pain pills before going back to the car. Otabek hasn't said much besides apologising, again and again until the words have lost their meaning, and to tell Yuri how much he loves him. That, at least, never loses it's feeling, and Yuri gets a slow, careful kiss as Otabek holds the door for him. He goes for more, but Otabek shakes his head and brushes his lips against Yuri's forehead, and for now, that's the end of that.

"I'm not mad," Yuri says once the engine is going and Otabek's shifting into first, because he isn't, not really. He might be a little annoyed that he has to spend the rest of the week off the ice, but at least he has the comfort of knowing that Otabek will be right by his side, taking care of him. Otabek glances at him apprehensively before shifting his gaze back out the windscreen with a soft hum. "I mean it, Beka. I'm not."

Otabek shifts in his seat, and when they reach a red light, his hand drops from the gear stick to his thigh. "Yuri, you got a concussion because of me. You got _seven_ stitches."

"I did that to myself." He lets his hand fall over Otabek's, playing with his fingers as he speaks. "I should have turned the water off and I shouldn't have got impatient. If it's your fault, it's also just as much my own."

"But I made you get rid of the spider," Otabek insists, as Yuri hears his breath hitch in his chest. _Okay_. He doesn't want to upset him any more than he is. Yuri raises Otabek's hand and brushes his mouth over his knuckles, holding it there until the light turns green and Otabek has to drive again.

"Okay," Yuri says resolutely, tucking his knees to his chest. "Let's agree that we're both at fault and lay it to rest, okay? I wanna go back to bed, and I want you to hold me."

Yuri watches Otabek's jaw work, the muscle flickering as he clenches, the only evidence of the war that's going on in his mind. After a long minute, Yuri reaches out to smooth away the tension, and Otabek nods against his palm. "Yeah."

*

Because he wants Otabek to feel useful, and because he wants to be spoilt, Yuri allows him to carry him back up to their apartment. He can admit, at least, that it's more than mildly amusing watching Otabek fight a losing battle with the lock, and Yuri finally offers him mercy after a minute by plucking the keys from his fumbling fingers and feeding them into the latch.

By the time they're settled in bed, it's midmorning. Yuri nibbles at the slice of wholewheat Otabek's dished up for him so he can take his meds, and even that feels odd in his stomach, unbelievably heavy. He swallows two powdery pills back with a swig of tea and lets his head fall to Otabek's shoulder, one hand brushing up the taut line of his stomach to curl lazily over his heart.

"Did you call Yakov?" Yuri asks, unable to hold back a yawn. He buries it in the thick fabric of Otabek's jumper and earns a lingering kiss to the top of his head.

"Yeah," Otabek hums, gently running his fingers through Yuri's hair. He’s careful not to catch on any knots, and Yuri appreciates the lulling motion, _smooth then stop, smooth then stop._ "And Lilia."

Yuri nods, and he thinks it's the end, but he hears a noise deep in Otabek's chest that sounds suspiciously like a gulp. "And Viktor."

"You called _Viktor_ ?" He shoots up so quickly his head spins and Otabek hisses, guiding him gently back down to his chest. "What were you _thinking_?"

"I don't know," he admits, kissing apologetically at his temple. "He rang while you were in the bathroom asking why we weren't at the rink and I couldn't just lie to him."

Which is typical, because Otabek can't lie for shit. Honestly, Yuri should have been expecting it, and at least he's prepared when he digs out his phone, forgotten beneath his pillow, for the torrent of messages flooding his screen. "Oh, my _God_."

"I'm sorry," Otabek says- it seems to be every third thing that comes out of his mouth. Yuri reads through his phone as quickly as his blurred vision allows him, only contemplating for a second before concluding that replying will dissuade the panic Viktor's obviously worked himself in to. "Do you need me to do anything?”

Yuri hums, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He lowers his lashes and runs a finger along the underside of Otabek's jaw, tilting his face until their lips almost brush. He nips playfully at Otabek's mouth before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Do you know what would be really sexy?"

"Yeah," Otabek says sceptically, and it almost sounds like a question. Yuri clenches his teeth tight to keep his cool composure as he watches Otabek's eyes trail over his face and land on his mouth.

Yuri ducks his head, kissing up the strong column of his throat until his mouth is just below his ear. He halts, sucking lightly and grazing his teeth over the skin in a way that elicits a shudder, rolling deep through Otabek's chest and into his own. And then, in his ear, voice low and husky, "That pile of laundry in the corner, magically sorting itself out."

Otabek can't bite his laughter off quick enough, and when Yuri draws back, there's a knowing smile on his face. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Yuri says, smirking. He splays his hand over Otabek's sternum and walks his fingers up the middle of his chest until he toys playfully at the collar. "And if Potya's dirty litter just... _disappeared_ and got replaced."

"I see." Otabek's hand lays to rest over Yuri's own and he laces their fingers together.

"And maybe," Yuri says slowly, squeezing gently as Otabek raises their hands so he can mouth at the underside of his wrist.  "A foot rub?"

This time his laughter is low and sweet, building into a crescendo that makes Yuri's chest feel tight with endearment."Is that all?"

"A massage," Yuri starts, deciding that if there's a time to be selfish, it's right now. "And maybe another cup of tea. And a biscuit."

He's surprised when Otabek doesn't complain- there's nothing worse in the world than crumbs in the bedsheets. He just looks fondly down at Yuri, stroking at his cheek in a way that makes them heat with affection. "Anything else?"

"A kiss?" Otabek rolls his eyes, but he's quick to comply. Usually, Yuri's one to deepen the first gentle touches, but he allows Otabek to keep it slow, delicate, as if even the little gasps of breath Yuri drags into his lungs threaten to shatter the moment. It doesn't last long, what with Otabek's new list of things to do. They part, but it isn't reluctant, the last kiss turning into two, to three, until Yuri pointedly plants his hand in the centre of Otabek's chest and pushes him away with a laugh.

After making sure that Yuri's comfortable enough- he is, incredibly so, wrapped up in his duvet, windows thrown wide open with Netflix playing in front of him- Otabek begins to drift around the apartment. Yuri alternates his attention between the show and watching him, deftly folding clothes and storing them away and listening to him talk to Potya in the living area where she's been sanctioned in fear of her escaping out the window. He wishes it were under different circumstances, but he loves the domesticity of it, receiving his tiger mug with a kiss to the cheek, admiring the way Otabek's muscles flex beneath pushed up sleeves as he scrubs at the floor of the ensuite. Yuri knows he's not being subtle, what with his chin cradled in his palm, their eyes meeting over the bowl of soapy water whenever Otabek looks up.

"You'd make a good little househusband," Yuri comments when Otabek takes a break, sprawled over Yuri's lap with his face burrowed into his stomach.

After a while, Otabek pulls back, looking up at Yuri with the same half-smile that made him fall years ago. "What does that make you, then?"

Yuri blinks, lips parting for a moment before he realises he doesn't know what to say. There's only one word, dancing on the tip of his tongue, and he figures he might as well say it even if it does make his face flush. " _Yours_."

Otabek smiles up at him, but it's unlike his usual twist of lips. It's wide and bright, toothy in a way that Yuri knows Otabek hates because of the slight chip in one of his incisors. Rare is the occasion that Yuri gets to witness it, and every time he realises it's the most beautiful thing in the world. "I like that."

The kiss that follows is interrupted by the sharp stab of their buzzer blasting. Yuri tries to ignore, tries to coax Otabek into ignoring it to by parting his lips with his tongue, but it comes through again and again until they're both left groaning and Yuri's left alone.

It's Viktor, of course, with Yuuri in tow behind him. He bursts into the bedroom with a look of rabid chaos, marching straight to the bed and holding Yuri's chin with gloved fingers. The leather is a cool bite to his skin, and Yuri's brows furrow as Viktor tilts his face to see the wound, patched up with gauze at his temple.

" _Yuri_ ," he breathes, lower lip trembling. Yuuri appears behind him but his eyes are sympathetic, apologising for his husband.

"I'm _fine_ ," he insists, wrapping his fingers around Viktor's wrist as tugging until he lets him go.

"How did it happen?" he asks, sinking to the mattress beside him. All of his usual energy appears to have been sapped, and Yuri can't help but feel a mild twist of guilt as Viktor runs a hand over his face.

"I, uh, slipped in the bathroom," he says, wincing as he does so. He doesn't need Viktor and Yuuri making assumptions like the doctor.

Viktor levels him with an unconvinced look. "And ended up needing stitches?"

"Yeah?" Yuri says slowly. From the corner of his eye, he can see Otabek blushing, shifting from where he lingers in the door frame. Viktor opens his mouth to speak again, and Yuri can almost see the accusation forming on his tongue when Yuuri cuts the tension in the room.

"Vitya, calm down, he's fine," he says briskly, slapping Viktor's thigh as he sits down next to him. He studies Yuri's face for just a beat too long before clearing his throat and holding up a carrier bag. "I made you some soup, Yuri, because I wasn't sure if the concussion was giving you nausea."

"I- uh, thanks," Yuri mumbles, unable to process the sudden show of kindness. He fingers at the duvet and shoots Otabek a withering look, but he simply shrugs behind turned heads and mouths _I'm sorry_. Great, another apology Yuri doesn't want or need.

"Why don't you and Otabek eat in the kitchen while I change your sheets?" Yuuri suggests after time slips away and silence stretches taut.

"What's wrong with them?" Yuri says defensively, hugging the duvet to his chest.

"Well," Yuuri says, reaching across the bed and pointing at a blossom of red amongst a sea of otherwise rather beige and brown animal spots. "They've got blood on them."

 _Huh_.

He ends up sitting on the sofa with Potya in his lap as Otabek heats up the soup on the stove. Viktor alternates between hovering over him or drifting into the bedroom, looking increasingly lost. In the end, Yuri snaps at him to just sit down and entertain him; he'd rather hear stories of his shenanigans with Makka and Yuuri than watch him fret like a disgruntled mother hen. Once he's distracted by the sound of his own voice, he isn't bad company, and at least he doesn't have to speak too much. Talking's beginning to give him more of a headache than he already has, and when Otabek quietly slips him two more pills with a slice of bread, Yuri gratefully accepts.

"How are you feeling?" he murmurs into Yuri's ear as he settles down beside him. Yuri shifts so that he can recline against Otabek's chest, eyes watching the hazy blur of Viktor's mouth moving but not truly acknowledging what's being said.

"Weird," Yuri admits quietly, grimacing down at his bowl. The soup is delicious, he can admit that, but it's settling strangely in his stomach. He tries to eat some more- he knows he needs to keep his fluids up- but every swallow is a struggle. Thankfully, Otabek notices and moves his tray to the coffee table and helps Yuri settle down onto his chest. Yuri takes comfort in burying his face into Otabek’s sweatshirt, letting the aftershave clinging to the fabric dull the niggling in his stomach.

He's half-asleep when the commotion startles him, a squeal at first that’s soon accompanied by some very colourful Japanese curses. Yuri only understands them because he had begged Mari to teach him, tucked away in the humid kitchen of Yu-topia with their elbows deep in soap suds.

"What's going on?" he slurs, picking his head up from Otabek's shoulder. There's a line of drool slick against his chin and he scrubs at it bashfully as he looks around.

He doesn't get an answer, but Viktor jumps up and heads towards the closed door of the bedroom. Before he makes it, Yuuri bursts through, face red and glasses askew. His chest heaves as he pauses to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands bracing his knees. When he speaks, it's just one word, although the syllable stabs through the air like a dagger, stone cold. " _Bird_."

"Bird?" Yuri and Otabek both parrot. Yuuri shoots them his very best _did I stutter?_ look before trudging over to the chair Viktor vacated and sinking into the cushions.

"Well, how did that happen?" Yuri can't help but ask, stupid may it be, fingers curling into Potya's fur. Her ears have perked up at the strange sounds coming from the other room, but Yuri isn't ready for her to become a murderer today.

"I don't know!" Yuuri exclaims, exasperated. Viktor's off being the ideal husband and brewing him a cup of tea; Yuri can hear the low hiss of the water boiling in the kettle behind him. He keeps Yuuri's favourite, green tea with jasmine, in the cupboard for precisely this reason- there isn't a way to know when something's going to fly out of nowhere at you. _Literally_.

"Who's going to get it out, then?" Yuri asks. Potya's scooped up into his arms now, although she's struggling against him. He bounces her against his chest, cooing lightly beneath his breath as he regards his options: obviously it won't be Yuuri, who's blatantly terrified, and as much as he loves Otabek, if he can't handle a spider, he certainly can't handle something with _wings_ . And Viktor- _well_ , most of the time he's pretty much useless, so that only leaves one option. "I'll do it."

"No!" Everyone shouts. Yuri shrinks back into Otabek, whose arm has tightened around him, fingers caught in the hem of his shirt, grazing against Yuri's abdomen as he lets out an annoyed huff.

"Yura," Otabek says, and if Yuri didn't know any better it'd almost sound like a warning. Otabek knows better than anyone Yuri can’t be told what to do, so he takes it merely as a _suggestion_ rather than the _stay away from that bloody door_ it clearly is.

"Well, who's it going to be, then?"

Silence stretches across the room, broken only by Potya finally scrabbling away and scampering to sniff at the door frame. She mewls once, claws scratching at the wood, before looking back at them expectantly.

"I will," Viktor says, and it's spoken with such reluctance Yuri almost feels bad for him. _Almost_ . He sighs dramatically, hands Yuuri his mug of tea and squares his shoulders in the face of the unknown. Potya meows again, and Yuri takes it as her way of saying _good luck_. He'd say the words himself if he thought he'd be able to manage it without sounding condescending.

There's a lot more swearing when Viktor goes in, colourful insults involving _mothers,_ _choking_ and at one point a donkey. Yuri tries hard not to laugh, he really does, but his shoulders shake at the increased intensity of Viktor's voice until there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

It's karma, Yuri supposes, when a wave of nausea too intense to ignore rolls through him and he finds himself spluttering over the kitchen sink. Otabek is there to hold his hair, rubbing at his back as Yuri braces the counter top and breathes harshly through his mouth. _Gross_.

"I literally don't know," Yuri begins, swirling water around his mouth and spitting, "how this day could get any worse."

"Don't say that," Otabek says, mildly horrified. No one would think it, but he's oddly superstitious about these kinds of things; Yuri's surprised he hasn't stretched across the kitchen to touch the wood of the dining table.

By the time the clear up is done, Viktor's emerged from the bedroom, hair bedraggled and shirt hanging out of his pants. He announces loudly that the windows are firmly shut, and he'd only had to clean up three patches of bird poop. Yuri finds himself oddly proud of him, even with his clammy cheek smushed against his folded arms, collapsed over the kitchen table. "Does that mean I can go back to bed?"

It does. Yuuri and Viktor are quick to make their exit, wishing Yuri a speedy recovery and promising that they'll stop by and see him tomorrow. Yuri tries to convince them otherwise but runs out of steam after the third _no, you really don't have to._ After brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water, he burrows beneath his clean sheets and allows himself to just breathe in the eerie calm that falls over him.

Otabek bustles about for a while doing odd chores before stretching out beside Yuri. His hand rests on the bundled bulk that is his shoulder beneath the duvet and squeezes, and Yuri curls himself into him, nuzzling against his side.

"Do you still want that foot rub?" Otabek asks after a while, fingers halting from where they'd been playing in the lengths of Yuri's hair.

"Hell yeah," Yuri says, struggling to kick his feet out from the sheets that Yuuri's only just tucked in and wriggling his toes. They're not pretty, anyone would be lying if they looked at Yuri's ballerina feet and said they were, but Otabek doesn't mind- probably because his are in a very similar state. After rooting around for massage oil, Otabek begins kneading at the sore muscles with warm, deft fingers, and Yuri is unable to hide any of the sighs of pleasure they elicit from his throat.

"I really am sorry, you know," Otabek murmurs, brushing his fingers over the tops of Yuri's feet and lightly raking his nails on the downward drag. If it were up to Yuri, the word would be banned, but he's too sleepy and sated to care much at the moment, what with Otabek's touch lulling him into deep relaxation. The pain at his temple is still there, but it's an afterthought, buried deep beneath the delicate scent of argon and the warmth of Otabek's skin bleeding into his own.

"It's okay," Yuri reassures, curling his toes into the tops of Otabek's thighs. He stretches out a hand and grapples with his fingers, and Otabek thankfully takes the hint and comes to lay next to Yuri again. Once they're comfortable, Yuri rolls so he can brush his lips against Otabek's throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath his skin. "I'd do it all again for you."

He doesn't realise the truth of his words until they're there, floating in the millimetres between them. Yuri mouths at Otabek's jaw as he thinks, _really_ thinks, about all they've gone through today. Fears, both irrational and logical, hold no weight against the one thing that would cause Yuri's world to crumble apart. There's strength in the arms that hold him that Yuri doesn't have on his own, and a warmth he's only ever felt in the intimate kiss of their bare skin.

"I love you, Yura," Otabek murmurs, breathing the confession into Yuri's skin. It's strange how a day crafted from nightmares has been able to bring him an odd sense of comfort. A revelation, really, because Yuri would try and crush it, but there's always been this shadowy cloud of doubt that whispers in the dead of night- _what if this ends_?

It won't come back.

Yuri's never been so sure of anything in his life. He blinks up at Otabek and lets the last dregs of his fear go because there's nothing in the world that could take away their love- neither hospitals or needles, and certainly not spiders.

Potya jumps up and paws her way into the minuscule space between them, kneading at the duvet before curling around. Otabek scratches behind her ears and after a few moments of admiration, Yuri's hand joins his. Their fingers entwine over Potya's purring chest, and Yuri leans in to press his smile against Otabek's mouth. "I love you too."

  


**Author's Note:**

> i've waited so long to post this! i have another nsfw fic i'll be posting tonight! it's one of my fav things i've ever written so i hope y'all enjoy it too!
> 
> thank you so much for reading! i still love otayuri more than anything don't y'all worry!
> 
> find me here:
> 
> [ zeldaismyhomegirl](http://zeldaismyhomegirl.tumblr.com/)  
> [ @ItsCatAvalon](http://twitter.com/ItsCatAvalon)  
> xoxo cat


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